The moment.

We are here.

We are laughing.

Hands are touching.

We are sharing stories.

Food is cooking.

We are eating.


We kissed.

The moment.

It’s gone forever.

There is no backward motion.

It’s all illusion.

There is perhaps only a forward motion.

And a forward motion in the wrong direction.

There is definitely no backward motion.

One minute we are alive.

The next, she died.

Beds left untouched.

A life that no longer exists.

The moment.

It vanished into an abyss.

There is only love.

Let’s share it everyday.

Care as deeply as we can.

Step back when we’ve been compromised.

Sit still and express appreciation for life.


We love.

We live.

We die.

My stance

My stance

I stood at the doorway of my life,

unafraid, willing to risk comfort for adventures.

The sunrise warmed up my face as I lay out maps,

and compass and pencils to draw my road.

There are mountains to be climbed with these legs of mine,

rivers to swim across and oceans to sail through.

This confidence has sparkled from deep within,

awaken by the culmination of all that has happened.

A sudden death, a wake up call.

I could disappear and people will forget.

I don’t want meaningless facts to be spoken,

when my life ends for I will love to mean more.

The legacy of the girl who survived the death of a parent,

who learned a new language from one day to the next,

who fell in love, then out and into her own love.

I want people to say she had the spark, she was golden,

She thrived, she soared, she was mighty.

She carried herself with grace, ate with a ravenous appetite,

and created great recipes out of thin air with style.

Her books have inspired millions of people around the world,

and her hands have healed as many as they could touch.

She was a delight to be around and she lived,

she stood in her light and owned her glory.

She was as fearless as she was kind.

Her family adored her and love always seemed to pour out of her.

She was a legend, a woman who owned her power,

a glorious woman.



Silver spoon in perfect mouth,

sneakers running on fresh grass,

life passing through windows,

girls laughing at a restaurant.

Boys sitting by the water,

sunset at the horizon,

kisses between two soulmates.

Morning ritual of tea and banana,

oranges with warm toast and butter,

hands holding a body in adornment.

Heavy tears flowing out of a broken heart,

sadness as a chain choking a neck,

a mother laying dead on the ground.

Sisters fist fighting in a small room,

fathers trying their personal best,

girls punching anger out of themselves.

Calling ex boyfriend’s aunt for closure,

there is no shame in loving boys who left but,

not enough contempt to love husbands, not ours.

Long walks on winter evenings eating love,

writing stories we thought would become a lifetime.

Hands clenching a back in pain,

alleviating wounds only love can heal.

Mothers should live as long as their daughters,

sons are nurtured by their mother’s love,

all children want their parents to be present.

Benches in schools where we spent lunch breaks,

building the kind of friendship teenagers do best,

unaware of how quickly we would grow into adults.

Taking a hammer to one’s own heart and wrecking it,

then picking up the pieces to reassemble a stronger heart.

Standing by the water to call out God for answers,

with the mind replaying memories of the past,

and the present coming to a standstill at a crossroads.

Sharing intimacy with naked bodies in a stranger’s bed,

opening up about the boy we truly loved.

Brisk morning walk with wind in the hair,

breath of fresh air and calm thoughts to induce serenity.

Our humanity grounds us on earth,

as we catapult into actions and reactions,

living yet resisting life until it forces us to surrender.

The me inside of me

The me inside of me


This is a beautiful story.


We cooked and we ate it too.

The restaurant was excellent, I devoured my plate.


I have two sisters from my parents.

More sisters came and settled in my heart.

I am a sister to all the girls who sit down to talk.


The earth humbles me.

I meet myself in nature.

The sunshine conquers my heart.

I hug trees to share their energy.


I am loving.

I am lovable.

Kisses on the forehead.

Lip balm from my lips to his.

More love sharing with all the people in my life.


It is a daily practice.

We smile to acknowledge our similarities.

We accept our elusive differences.

There is kindness everywhere.

A stranger who sees your tears and hands you tissue.

My friend spent five hours with me in my heartbreak.


I have a deep desire to experience new cultures.

I drool over food I’ve never tasted.

My past lives are calling me where I’ve lived before.

I feel languages I’ve yet to learn in my heart.

My life is a grand adventure of joy and discovery.

So many places to see, strangers to befriend, food to devour.

The excitement of new first times.


Painting colors on acrylic paper.

Writing words on my hands in an emotional meltdown.

Drawing my wounds in words that soothe.

Putting clothes on my body to reflect my mood.

Singing out loud to drown my sorrows.

Creating a new way to cope with uncertainty.

Cooking a meal with my heart.

Pairing words with pictures.


I have two from my parents.

One was my only sibling at one time.

The other is my youngest sibling.

I pray for both to only know women who they can truly love.

They are gentle like boys with kind mothers.

We laugh and make jokes when we are home.

Boys who sit to talk are my brothers.

We share stories and advice.

My mother has two brothers whom I call uncles.


I wear it daily.

It smiles confidently.

It radiates from my heart.

The clothes I honor with body with.

I breathe in positive affirmations.

I respect my humanity and all humanity.

I treat myself with kindness and reverence.

My body wears me well all day.

My hands touch my feet with love.

I feed my heart and soul with sustenance.

It’s all mine

It’s all mine

The sum of my trials and mistakes added up to the painting of my life.

I became an orphan too soon and grew into a motherless daughter.

When the errors of my life emerge to haunt me, I call out to my mother,

wishing she would answer and then I sit quietly in the dark to listen.

I took a razor to shave my head as a self revolution and stood in the mirror,

like a warrior who didn’t know what she was fighting for.

I grabbed my own hand one day and said I was more than enough,

and buried my insecurities by a lake so it can be swallowed by the earth.

I didn’t see my own beauty because I didn’t have my mother as a mirror,

I looked for myself in books that felt like home and the last page always left me, lonely.

I loved a boy who was never meant to stay yet his love changed me,

so I still pray for his happiness and contentment.

I’ve learned to stand up for myself but sometimes I hit my head when I stand abruptly,

so I had to learn to stand up gently and sit down  a little longer when need be.

I have lost mother, father, self, romantic love but what hurts the most was not knowing,

who I was and where I left myself to rot. I had to go looking for myself to find me.

The roads that I’ve taken have led me to wonderful destinations but at times,

it hurts to think of the roots I had to abandon and the ones that left me.

I stood on a hill, lungs filled with gratitude and my mind filled with wonder,

from the places I’ve been and for the places I’m getting to.

I had to accept the soothing grace of humility through the irritability of my ego,

to love when there is anger and to forgive when I felt righteous.

Everywhere I’ve been, everything I’ve eaten, all the choices I’ve made,

all the love I’ve given, all the love I’ve received gracefully,

all the falls I’ve had, each time I’ve stood again,

all the hurtful words I’ve spoken and burned myself with,

the offenses committed against me, the peace offerings I’ve held in my heart,

each day since the day out of my mother’s womb,

all of it, is my life. All of it.